It was January of 1996 and the Pittsburgh Steelers were about to face-off against the Dallas Cowboys in Super Bowl XXX. But, the biggest battle of the day wasn’t about to take place on the field at Sun Devil Stadium in Tempe, Arizona. It was going down in our kitchen back in Pittsburgh.
Did I mention what a fantastic job I was doing of properly tapping the keg?
|
My wife, Linda had decided that it would be fun to have group of our friends over to watch the Super Bowl. At that time: Linda and I had been together for about six years. But we hadn’t hosted a whole ton of parties as a couple. Usually, I would just buy a keg of beer, Linda would pick up some snacks, and we’d call a bunch of friends. On this occasion however, Linda had decided that she would execute a well planned, and generously appointed Super Bowl party. She had composed a thoughtful grocery list. We had a smattering of football party decorations. We had the TV set-up with picture-in-a-picture (it was 1996 after all). And, she was stressing out over the whole affair.
I on the other hand, was (perhaps too) nonchalant about the party. It was only going to be a small group of close friends. They had been to my house dozens of times. And we never needed fancy party plans to have a good time. We were going to be watching a football game. I didn’t see it as a big deal.
It was with this premise set, that we embarked on our game day preparations. I tapped the keg and made sure it was pouring a nice, cold, frothy pitcher – testing it several times. Linda prepared the conventional fair of kielbasa, and Sloppy Joes. She methodically cut the fresh baked sandwich buns and arranged them in a wicker basket next to the serving station. She put out bowls of chips, and dips, and salsa, and mixed nuts. She hung our decorations, and strategically placed the Terrible Towels about the room. She baked and decorated black ’n gold cookies. And, she cleaned the kitchen prior to going upstairs to shower and don her game time fan apparel.
Did I mention what a fantastic job I was doing of properly tapping the keg?
As I look back on this tale, I can see that this is where I may have made my first strategic error in the Great Cheese Battle of 1996.
|
Before heading upstairs, Linda asked me if I would cut the cheese that she had purchased and place it on a silver serving tray (which she had left on the counter). Admiring my most recently poured pitcher of beer, I said I’d be glad to help with the cheese. How hard could that be … right?
I got out the cutting board. I unwrapped the cheese. I began cutting a brick of Colby into nice two by one inch chunks and threw them on the designated platter.
Linda hadn’t left the room yet, and what happened next hit me from out-of-the-blue.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Linda seethed.
“Cutting up the cheese for the Super Bowl party like you asked” I answered in complete innocent naivety.
“That’s not how you should do it.” Linda said taking the knife from my hand. “You need to slice it into pieces like this, so that it can be eaten on a cracker. And, it should be arranged on the platter like this.” she said — fanning the cheese slices on the platter like a Vegas card dealer.
As I look back on this tale, I can see that this is where I may have made my first strategic error in the Great Cheese Battle of 1996. Because, it was with a face of complete disdain, that I informed my adversary that “Nobody gives a shit how the cheese is cut, or how it looks on a plate! They’re going to be watching a football game. They might not even glance down at the plate as they shovel this crap into their pie holes!”
In what may have been uncontrolled emotion, or may have been a planned debate calculation; Linda’s eyes began to well-up with tears. “I just wanted everything to look nice for our friends. I just wanted to have a party that was more than another beer bash.”
“And, I just wanted to watch the damned football game.” I said grabbing my jacket.
“What are you doing?” she asked in complete disbelief.
“I’m going down to the corner bar where I can watch the game without all of this drama. I can’t believe that the shape of the cheese is so important that you’d blow it up into an argument.” I answered with one hand on the door knob.
“What am I going to tell our friends.” Linda asked — thinking that I’d be too embarrassed to leave my own party.
“Tell them they can come on down to the bar, and bring the chunked cheese with them if they want. God knows you wouldn’t be seen dead eating it!” I said closing the door.
I stopped on the front porch for a minute to recount the last five minutes. How did that happen? One minute I was sipping a cold beer; the next minute I was providing my assistance with the most trivial task I could imagine; and the next minute I was dodging bullets and hurling hand grenades. Geez!
Linda opened the front door. “I’m sorry she said calmly. You’re right. It wasn’t that important.”
“I don’t even know how it escalated so quickly.” I said. But, I really don’t want to fight with you.”
And to this day, when we begin to fight over something that probably isn’t important enough to brew-up a conflict, we still ask one another “Does it really matter how you cut the cheese?”
|
We both recognized how silly it was to let such a petty disagreement get out of hand. Over the years we’ve become very careful to measure the importance of any dispute. Nine times out of ten a resolution can be found just by asking how important a topic is to the other person. If Linda feels strongly about something for which I don’t have a robust opinion, then I let it go. And, she does the same. It’s just not worth starting a battle over something small and taking the chance of a war. Because, then both sides lose.
The Steelers found themselves in a hard fought contest that Sunday evening. It was actually a good, exciting game even though the “good guys” lost. But, the relationship between Linda and I came out as a winner. And to this day, when we begin to fight over something that probably isn’t important enough to brew-up a conflict, we still ask one another “Does it really matter how you cut the cheese?” Whereupon we draw strange glares from anyone within range.
—
This post is republished on Medium.
—
—
Photo credit: iStock